


Epilogue

by thepillowverse



Series: The Pillow Verse [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bunker Fic, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepillowverse/pseuds/thepillowverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel’s hand-eye coordination is scary good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> **Epilogue** [[The Pillow 'Verse](http://thepillowverse.tumblr.com/masterpost)]  
>  **Author:** Clothessharing  
>  **Pairings/Characters:** Dean/Castiel  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** references to sexuality  
>  **Count:** 1,375  
>  **A/N:** This is the end of the Pillow ‘Verse. Thank you very much for all your support, and here is to good things in Season 9!

Castiel’s hand-eye coordination is scary good. He’s some kind of efficient at the shooting range or even throwing knives – and where the hell he picked that up, Dean doesn’t wanna know. Kevin complains about how he kicks his butt at Smash Brothers and Portal every time. So Dean’s not surprised when Cas says, over dinner one day, that he really _does_ want that car they’d talked about.

Of course, no matter how _persuasive_ Cas may be, Dean still isn’t gonna let him test this out in his baby. That’s just common sense.

So instead they go out to town, taking the Impala to the big, expansive car dealerships along the side of the road. Some of the salesmen eye the car, and all Dean can do is smirk to himself because _of course_.

Cas, Dean, and the salesmen drive down roads that are pale and flat and dusty, the Midwest heartland Dean is so used to traveling himself. At first, he’s itchy sitting in the backseat, but eventually he gets used to the rush of the road passing him by without having to think about it.

“I know that must have been difficult for you,” Cas tells him, smiling wryly.

“Not as much as you’d think.” Dean wonders how much they’re giving away in only the way they curve to each other just while talking, and realizes he doesn’t care about that, either.

Every day they do this, they go back to the bunker and Cas insists on cooking him a ridiculous meal – and he kinda sucks at it, he burns rice black and his burgers are either bricks or mooing, but hey it’s the effort – and then they fuck until they practically can’t speak any more. Dean shouldn’t be complaining, and he isn’t. Still, there has to be something missing for Cas, because no matter where they go and how long they spend driving on these roads, he doesn’t pick a car.

And then one day they take a detour, and end up at a motorcycle dealership.

Even if you didn’t know him like Dean did, you couldn’t miss the way Cas lights up. Lights up like the chrome of the motorcycles gleaming in the late autumn sun, actually.

Cas only needs to go sputtering around the dealership’s lot – and Christ, Dean is glad when Cas is done, because if Cas was driving around with his arms and thighs all tensed like that any longer, Dean might have had no choice but to knock him off that motorcycle to get him on the ground and pressed up next to him – once, before he’s making a deal to buy the thing.

Dean and Cas drive back to the bunker without talking much, but Dean cranks the radio up and sings along, loud. Cas grins back at him, wind whipping his hair gone so long now.

They deliver the motorcycle Cas bought a few days later. The bike is the color of the midnight sky, like Castiel’s eyes late at night when he’s curved toward Dean in their bed, and it looks good when his hands are gripping the sides of it.

Cas signs _Castiel Campbell_ on the form, and Dean can’t help but smile. They couldn’t use _Winchester_ for his name – too many warrants out for that, too many questions it would cause – but still, Cas is family.

The guys who drop off the bike keep giving Dean and Cas odd looks, like they can’t quite figure out what’s going on there, but they’re mostly distracted by the bunker and how it’s sunken into the ground.

When they’re driving off in their truck, one of them sticks his head out the driver’s side window before he drives off. “Nice place,” he says, and it could have been mocking, but it sounds genuine and the guy’s smiling.

“I know,” Dean tells him, even though he’s not sure the guy can hear him as they drive off. Doesn’t matter; he’s still smiling, even if it’s mostly to himself.

After the truck’s gone down the road is when Dean turns to Cas, and he can’t help the smile from spreading wider. “I got something for you,” he says, and moves off into the entryway to the bunker. “Charlie helped, and Sam and Kevin –”

He’d actually managed to stash the headsets in a place he knew even Cas wouldn’t check – one of the drawers in the kitchen, of all places. It was one of the drawers where he’d tucked away the spices and rarer ingredients he’d managed to collect over the few months he was here; he could _collect_ things now, and it left him feeling like a pack rat or one of the people on _Hoarders_ , but it also kept repeating in his head: _this is home, it really is._

“This was mostly Charlie,” Dean explains, holding out a headset to Cas. “Don’t – hey, don’t start on giving myself credit,” he interrupts when Castiel’s mouth pops open, “She really did do most of this; she’s got the tech know-how and I’m basically a dinosaur.” He lets the smile spread over his face again. Castiel’s, too, but then again the guy probably hung out with a t-rex a few times. “My idea, though.”

One day, Cas is going to have to go away for a while, to help out the other angels when they surface; Dean gets it, because who can understand loyalty and duty to your family better than he can. But he knows now that Castiel’s duty doesn’t mean he’s leaving, and he knows Cas knows he’s got backup if he needs it and he isn’t afraid to ask any more.

“What is it?” Cas keeps rolling the headphones over in his hands, examining them like if he peers at them hard enough he’ll figure it out. Truth be told, he probably could.

“A headset. Got a range of a couple of thousand miles – thanks to Charlie and Kevin, mostly. Sam helped too. I just – thought you could wear it when you go driving, y’know.”

Dean wouldn’t get mad if Cas shied away from it. Maybe it’s too much. For a few beats, even though he knows him and Cas are more than okay, he’s afraid Cas is going to offer him that so very inhuman head-tilt and say _I already have a phone, Dean_ , and walk away.

Instead, Cas leans up to kiss him, right there with the sun setting and peeking out through the trees a little while in the distance, washing the whole sky ripe peach-colored. Dean closes his eyes and lets his whole world settle down to Cas’ lips, his hands skimming over his body as much as he dares in public.

When they pull apart, Cas has a set of headphones in his hands. “Thank you,” he says, solemn and earnest as ever, slipping them over his ears.

It’s kind of ridiculous, Cas with his headphones on while he tries to adjust the speaker, his hair a mess, his shiny new navy _motorcycle_ almost leaning against the Impala’s frame right outside the bunker. Dean has to take a step back to take it all in. Charlie said she’d visit for Thanksgiving, if not sooner, and he knows Sam and Kevin are inside looking at colleges and maybe trading weird vegan recipes.

A couple of years ago, Dean would have doubted he could have been living this life. He wouldn’t have even thought to want it, so steeped up in duty to everyone and convinced his own feelings didn’t matter. But now that he has it, it might not be clean white picket fences and apple pie – though that’s only because he doesn’t have the ingredients right now – but it’s exactly what he always needed, as it turns out.

He puts his own headphones on, just in time to hear it very clearly: _Hello, Dean._

He lets the grin that’s been threatening to break out the entire time spread wide onto his face. “Hey, Cas,” he says back.

\- THE END -


End file.
